Magnum Opus
by TP Knight
Summary: AU. From her father, she inherited his open-mindedness, and from her mother, her intellect as well as a dream that became her own. With these gifts, Luna Lovegood discovers the study of alchemy, and all the magic and wonder that it brings.
1. Chapter 1

"Good morning, dear."

"Good morning, Luna."

"Morning Mum and Dad," Luna said with a yawn, plopping herself down at the kitchen table.

Her dad sat across the table from her, his face obscured by the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Not that he took anything in it seriously; it was simply another form of entertainment, and he often treated it as such, usually with a chuckle or a remark about its absurdity as he turned the pages.

Luna had tried to read it once – much to the amusement of her parents – but she never saw what was so amusing about Ministry re-elections.

"Breakfast is served!" her mum shouted as she placed a full plate in front of Luna. "You got your sausage, your beans, your eggs fried just the way you like it, some black pudding, hash browns, the full monty."

Luna looked down at her plate, savoring the sight and smell of her breakfast. She picked up the fork, and let hover over her plate in indecision. When she finally settled on a choice, her fork swiftly jabbed down towards one of the thick, bloated sausages. Instead of sinking down into the meaty flesh and juices flowing outward from the puncture site, her fork felt an unusual resistance before it slid off.

Luna repeated the action, growing more cross as she did so, but the effect was replicated with each attempt. The sausage remained strong, its bounty unyielding.

The sound of muffled giggling made Luna look up, her attention directed at the source. A pale, dainty hand covered her mum's mouth, fingers spread wide enough that Luna could see her smile. Her entire body shook with suppressed laughter. In her other hand, not completely out of sight, was the end of a wand pointed at her plate.

Luna tried to make her displeasure known, but she couldn't help but smile; the absurdity of the situation called for it.

Her mum leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "Watch this."

Luna watched intently, as her dad reached out for an English muffin on his own breakfast plate. Her mum waved her wand around in a circle, before jabbing it through the middle.

"Ack! Rubber!" her father shouted not long after, as the English muffin flew through the air. She followed its trajectory, and gasped in surprise when it bounced a couple of times on the floor, before coming to a rolling stop.

Her mum was the first to laugh, no longer trying to hide it. It was a light and warm, her curly blonde hair bouncing along with her. When she turned to look at her dad, his bewildered face caused her to laugh as well.

The laughter spread like a virus. Her dad's lips started to twitch, before his loud, boisterous laughter joined their own.

Their chorus rang throughout the house.

* * *

"Looks like it's going to rain," she said morosely.

Luna looked up at the overcast sky, and couldn't disagree. In the brisk autumn morning, the sun was nowhere in sight; the sky was populated only by clouds, and pockmarked by varying shades of gray that could only mean one thing.

Her mum sighed. She ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair, looking up at the sky with an expression of frustration and defiance. "Bugger the rain. We'll continue our walk, rain or shine, right Luna?"

"Right," Luna replied, tightening her grip around her mum's hands as a sort of comfort. The gesture brought a grin to her face; its child-like vibrancy was one of the few things that shined through even this overcast.

Luna made sure to capture the moment within her memory; it would make for a good painting, maybe somewhere in the kitchen.

They walked through the gardens amongst the hills that shielded their home from the rest of the village; it was similar to the foliage that surrounded the Weasley's home in The Burrow, but their gardens were more aesthetically pleasing; even more so this time of year.

When they both sat down on top of two tree stumps, with a calm stream running nearby, Luna found it best to ask her question. "Do you know why it rains?"

Her mum turned to look straight at her, a playful smile on her face. It was a precursor, a tell that Luna had noticed since she was younger. It only happened when she would answer a question with another question; not to be evasive, but so that the other party could work it out on their own.

"I certainly do. What about you?"

"Dad says that the aquavirus maggots are the cause of it."

She hummed in amusement. "I was asking if _you_ knew, not if your dad knew."

Luna's face scrunched tightly as she thought. When she came to a realization, she looked up at the sky again, as if to confirm it was true.

"It rains because the sky is crying," Luna said.

"Why is the sky crying?"

"It's sad. Because something bad happened. Or something bad is _going_ to happen." Luna turned to her mum. "Nothing bad is going to happen, is it?"

Her mum frowned, before reaching into her shimmering purple and yellow cloak, pulling out spectacles with lenses that were round and large, like an owl's eyes. She held it out for Luna.

"What's that?" Luna asked, eyeing the item curiously.

"They're magical spectacles. My mother gave them to me when I was about your age. She told me to wear these whenever I felt sad or troubled about anything. And now I'm doing the same."

She took the glasses from her mum's hands and wore them. They were larger than she thought, almost comically so, and they threatened to slide off the bridge of her nose already. Yet nonetheless, as she looked at the surroundings around her, the sight was captivating.

The overcast was gone, replaced with a bright blue sky and an ever-shining sun. The colors seemed to gleam with increased magnificence, with orange and red, purple and yellow and brown dancing, with even more colors popping out at her with gusto.

When she turned to look at her mum, she appeared exactly the same as she did without the glasses.

"That was amazing," Luna said breathlessly as she reluctantly took them off.

Her mum nodded. "If you spent every day worrying about every bad thing that _might_ happen, you'd never be able to enjoy the good. And there's a lot of good in the world, Luna. A lot of good and wonder. All you have to do is just find it."

"Why don't you wear these all the time?"

She stared at Luna, before pulling her into a hug. "Why would I? When I'm with you and Xeno, I'm never sad or troubled."

After what felt like forever, they finally broke the embrace. "Now, you should put those glasses to good use," her mum said. She tapped her chin with an index finger. "How about you start with a scavenger hunt?"

Luna sat up straighter. "What am I looking for?"

"That's the thing…" she started. She scratched the back of her head as she laughed nervously. "You'll need to find my wand."

It was only then that Luna noticed that her mum's wand wasn't tucked behind her right ear. "You dropped your wand?"

"Now, now, let's not get confused. _Children_ drop things. Adults simply…misplace them. Not that I misplaced it. This was a perfectly calculated maneuver by your mother."

"So you dropped it, and want me to find it," Luna replied flatly.

"You better hurry up; else the Tickler might show up."

"I'm not five anymore, Mum. The Tickler doesn't scare me anymore."

Her mum gave Luna a sly smile. "Is that so? Oh no! I feel…I feel it taking over!" She bowled over dramatically, tightly clutching the wrist of her left hand, the fingers curled into a claw-like shape. "I-I can't hold it back any longer! The Tickler is too strong for me! Run, Luna! Run!"

Luna screamed as "The Tickler" was raised high in the air above her. She ran in the opposite direction along the stream, glasses on, as her and her mother laughed and ran in every which direction they fancied.

It would be the last walk they would take together.

* * *

It was Luna's first funeral.

People and umbrellas alike (both in black) gathered around as they lowered the casket into the ground. A small, tufty-haired man with a singsong voice presided over the ceremony, and while his lips moved, Luna couldn't hear a single word that he was saying.

After it was over, family and friends came over to them to offer condolences, including a tiny man with a bushy beard and a tall and thin man with a long, silver beard. They were both from Hogwarts, she later overheard, a school that her mum and dad said she would go to when she was old enough.

They lingered in front of her gravestone, long after everyone had left.

_HERE LIES  
PANDORA LOVEGOOD  
1960 – 1990  
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER  
BROUGHT HOPE TO EVERY HEART SHE TOUCHED_

Neither Luna nor her dad cried at all during the funeral processions.

The sky cried enough for both of them.

* * *

It had been a year since Pandora left them, and for Luna's sake, Xenophilius Lovegood did his best to parent for the both of them.

Whenever Luna wasn't with him, she was either in her room painting, or in Pandora's personal study, devouring every page while wearing oversized glasses.

They were the same ones that Pandora used to wear when she was at Hogwarts.

They settled into a sort of routine. Every morning, they would eat breakfast together, sometimes discussing the finer points of the latest issue of _The Quibbler_, other times going over his ever-increasing bestiary. If he didn't have anything for her to do, they would part ways; Xenophilius would head his workplace, while Luna would go to the room above his.

They would meet each other again for lunch and dinner. Once the dishes were washed and put away, Xenophilius would tuck Luna into her bed, and read to her passages from a book that she had been reading until she went to sleep. Afterwards, Xenophilius would return to his workplace for a few more hours, before heading to a bed that used to be _ours_, but was now _his_.

The routine was disrupted when Luna asked, "Dad, do you know anything about alchemy?"

He lowered his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ – marked with red circles and hastily scribbled notes – and stared at his daughter, whose comically oversized glasses made her look like an owl.

He cleared his throat. "I can't say I do. Why are you asking?"

"I was reading Mum's journal, and it mentioned alchemy as a field of study she wanted to explore."

"I see," Xenophilius responded, taking a sip of coffee from his mug.

"I'd like to learn about it as well."

He sputtered, spitting coffee from his mouth all over the table and the _Daily Prophet_. Luna stared at him dreamily, remaining unfazed by her father's sudden surprise.

"You have to understand Luna, that alchemy is a very esoteric branch of magic."

"Esoteric?"

"Specialized. Only a few can really grasp the concept."

Luna titled her head to the side. "We won't know until we try, right?"

Xenophilius sighed. It wasn't Wrackspurts; he had replaced the repellent last night, and those were the strongest ones he had.

_Luna is her mother's child_, he thought as he rubbed his forehead with a free hand. How could he make her understand? Pandora had dabbled in creating spells, and had suffered the grisly consequences. He never wanted to repeat that moment again, not with Luna. Stepping into the room on that day…

He shook his head. He knew how futile an effort it was to stop Pandora from pursuing whatever interested her, and if Luna was indeed her mother's child, it would be the same with her. If Pandora was here, he'd know exactly how she'd react.

"I know someone who might be able to help you, Luna. If this is truly what you wish…"

Luna walked up to him and wrapped him in a warm embrace. "It is. Thank you, Dad."

_Truly her mother's child_, Xenophilius thought as he returned the gesture.

* * *

"Miss Lovegood, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Once more, I offer my condolences. Your mother was a bright student, and the world has lost a very good woman."

"Thank you. I'm sure she appreciates your words, wherever she is. Unless she's busy working on a new spell. Then you might have to leave a message."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Lemon drop?"

"No, our lemons are fine. We keep them in the refrigerator, so no chance of dropping."

The man chuckled. "It's a Muggle candy that I'm quite fond of. I brought a few with me if you like to try one."

She plucked one from the old man's outstretched hand, and popped it into her mouth, straight out of the plastic packaging. It was sour, with a bit of sweetness to counteract some of it.

"You were at the funeral," Luna said as she continued sucking on the lemon drop. "I remember. I would never forget someone with a beard like yours. And your robe looked like the night sky."

The man smiled. "You have exquisite taste in fashion, Miss Lovegood. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Luna Lovegood. You can just call me Luna. I'm not old enough to be a miss."

"And you may call me Dumbledore. Or Albus, if you prefer. I heard from Xenophilius that you were interested in alchemy? It's rare to find someone so young who has ever even heard of it, let alone become interested in such arts."

Luna nodded. "I read in Mum's journal about her wanting to explore the field of alchemy. After reading about that, I combed through the rest of her books, but was only able to pick up bits and pieces. She'll never get to now that she's dead. I thought maybe I could do it in her stead."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. He pulled out a wand, and with a flick of a wrist, transformed two wooden chairs into squashy yellow armchairs. After taking a moment to absorb the feat of magic, Luna took her seat in one of the armchairs. "Are you familiar with Transfiguration and Potions, Luna?"

"Transfiguration changes things, and Potions is what allows wizards to make magical liquids."

"A very simplified answer, but yes, that is the gist of it. Do you know where those two branches of magic came from?"

Luna thought for a moment. "People?"

Dumbledore's lips curled into a smile. "You are correct. But to be more specific, both Transfiguration and Potions originated from alchemy itself.

"You see, most alchemists had a magnum opus, _the_ great work that they were striving for. Usually, this consisted of transforming base metals into gold, or finding the recipe for 'Panacea', an elixir that is said to grant immortality and cure any disease. When alchemy did not provide the results that they were looking for, some turned to more _precise_ methods in order to achieve their goals. In the end, the branches of Transfiguration and Potions were derived from those efforts, though they never did reach their magnum opus."

"That's a very tragic story," Luna commented. "Forgive me if I don't cry. Diamondback Gnats sometimes like to steal tears away, and we have an infestation currently."

Dumbledore stared for a moment, before nodded. "That is quite alright, Luna. And yes, it is in a way tragic." He pulled at the hairs under his chin. "Do you know what the difference is then, between alchemy and the two branches it gave birth to?"

Luna shook her head.

"Transfiguration and Potions are often for the very scientific-minded. There are strict rules or guidelines you must follow, and experimentation can quite often be deadly if you are not aware of what you're getting into."

Luna leaned forward, enraptured by Dumbledore's words. "And alchemy?"

"Alchemy is the opposite. It's very whimsical, and spontaneous. It has some scientific processes like Transfiguration or Potions, but it benefits the most from those with an open mind. Sometimes the greatest creations come about from a happy accident.

"I would go so far as to say that alchemy in its purest form is like experiencing magic for the first time, over and over again. It is wonder come alive."

Luna's mouth was agape. A Tongue Twister could have escaped her mouth and wreaked havoc upon the room, but she didn't care.

"Before we move further, I'd like to know what your magnum opus is, Luna."

She closed her mouth, her face fixed into an expression of deep thought.

Her magnum opus. Her great work. What did she want to accomplish with alchemy?

Her thoughts drifted to her mum. They drifted to the gardens where they had their last walk, to the overcast sky, and the rain that followed.

_And there's a lot of good in the world, Luna. A lot of good and wonder. All you have to do is just find it._

"I want to stop the rain, to stop the sky from crying," said Luna, staring directly into Dumbledore's eyes. "I want people to find all the good and wonder that the world has to offer. That is my magnum opus."

Behind his glasses, Dumbledore's eyes – a brilliant shade of blue – twinkled. "That is a very admirable goal, Luna."

"Thank you."

"I have already spoken with Xenophilius, and he has given me permission to take you somewhere if, of course, you are still willing to learn?"

"Where will we be going?"

Dumbledore smiled a warm, kindly smile, stretching out the same palm to her that held his lemon drops. "To meet an old friend."

She stared at the outstretched hand, a crossroads. Luna was gripped by a sudden apprehension. She turned to look around the room, and spotted her dad leaning at the doorway, for an unknown length of time. There was a sad, almost nostalgic expression on his face as he looked upon her. Then, after a brief length of time, he gave her a single nod of approval.

Luna turned to look at the kind, old man. Back at the crossroads.

She placed her small, pale hand into his, and they both disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as she touched his hand, her vision blackened, and her grip on Dumbledore's hand tightened. The world around her felt as though it were twisting around her, pulling in all directions at the same time and at the same time, pushing inward with the same amount of force. Her chest tightened, an unknown force pushing against it. She tried to gasp for air, but she couldn't breathe and her mouth was jammed shut. The world was spinning and she was just rolling along.

And in the next instant, her vision returned and she inhaled a lungful of air. The rest of her senses came along soon after, lagging behind the rest, as if they had only now just left their home. There was a sudden bout of nausea, as her stomach felt like it was unwinding from a tight knot. Luna stopped herself from vomiting all over the ground out of politeness.

She looked around, and saw the glittering tide of the ocean lightly brushing against the rocky shore.

"Are you alright, Luna?" Dumbledore asked. Under his half-moon spectacles, there was a layer of concern. "Most wizards and witches vomit when they first experience Apparition. Adventure can be a flighty mistress."

"If this is what adventure feels like, then I can see why books are so popular."

Dumbledore chuckled. Still grasping his hand, Luna was led by Dumbledore around the shore, until they encountered a path with wooden planks embedded in it to lead the way, the cottage becoming larger as they grew closer. A couple of times Dumbledore had to duck in order to avoid low-hanging branches.

"Why did we walk all the way here?" Luna asked as they pair reached the front door. "Couldn't we have just appeared in front of the door?"

"A courtesy, really. It's not very polite to just appear on ones' doorstep."

She nodded. Dumbledore knocked three times on the wooden door and waited. After a few moments had passed, the door swung open, and in its place was a rotund man in green and gold robes, with red rosy cheeks, and beady eyes.

"Albus Dumbledore!" the man cried out. Booming laughter accompanied it. "Albus, is that you? It's been too long!" Before Dumbledore could reply, the man had grappled him into a bear hug, his thick arms almost like tree trunks.

"Indeed it has Nicolas," Dumbledore said after the man released his grip. "How is Perenelle?"

"She's wonderful! Just out back taking care of the garden." It was only then that Nicolas turned his beady eyes onto her. His silver side-whiskers parted as a toothy smile appeared on his face. "And who might you be, young lady?"

"Luna Lovegood, sir." When she stuck out her hand, she had expected a handshake; she didn't expect to be pulled into a hug similar to one that he had given Dumbledore.

Despite being sandwiched in his grasp, Luna didn't feel like she was being crushed. The sensation was the complete opposite; it was warm and comforting, like she were hugging a giant teddy bear.

"Good to meet you, Miss Lovegood!" Nicolas said with a hearty laugh, after he had broken up the hug. "No doubt you've heard of me, Nicolas Flamel!"

"Who?"

Dumbledore smiled, while Nicolas looked absolutely flabbergasted. "The name doesn't ring a bell?"

"I can't say it does, sir."

"One of the greatest alchemical minds in the world?"

Luna blinked.

"Creator of the Philosopher's Stone? None of this is familiar?"

Luna shook her head. Nicolas let out an overdramatic sigh, and muttered something in French before waving them both inside. "Come in, come in."

As Luna stepped inside, two things stuck out to her.

One, the interior was a lot larger than she would have gathered from looking at the outside.

Two, the cottage was filled to the brim with antiques and items from all over the world.

As the two adults whispered to each other, sometimes sending her pointed glances, Luna looked around, hand clasped behind her back.

There were clocks of all shapes and sizes along the walls, some telling the time while others told the status of frivolous things, like the state of an egg or when the Queen of England was having breakfast, lunch, or dinner; there was a table that looked worn and disheveled when Luna looked upon it, but from the corner of her eye was ostentatious and gilded ("Italian craftsmanship!" Nicolas beamed). There were maps behind glass cases of faraway lands, scrolls written in runes you couldn't understand and paintings that didn't even _move_.

Luna wondered how they deal with all the Sniffling Dustbuns that make their home in places with plenty of junk around.

"Miss Lovegood." Luna looked up at Nicolas. His earlier exasperation was gone, replaced with his usual mirth. "I have to speak with Dumbledore on some matters. My wife however, is out back. Would you be so kind as to help her?"

Luna nodded. She knew that it was really just a way to get her out of earshot, but adult conversations that didn't involve either of her parents tended to be boring anyways, so she was happy to oblige.

Maneuvering through the makeshift labyrinth, and out the back door, Luna took a good look at what the Flamel "garden" had looked like.

It was less a garden and more like a miniature forest trapped by a wooden fence that winded around the edges. And on the outskirts the garden, their heads hovering over the fence post, were three black, skeletal horses with wings that resembled a bat.

It was both a terrifying and fascinating sight at the same time.

Remembering her mother's words, Luna fished around her robes until she found the spectacles, and wore them. Everything became magnified; the canopy above her shimmered with a luscious green, forgoing the usual autumn colors on its leaves. The thestrals' translucent, glossy coat was emphasized, adding a shine that mitigated their more intimidating features.

An old woman turned her head, her long, silvery hair partially obscured by the wide-brimmed sunhat she wore. Her face was wrinkled, but kindly like a grandmother, and she radiated a certain youth despite her apparent age. "Oh, hello dear!" She put down the bucket she was carrying, containing bloody, raw meat. One of the horses leaned forward to sniff at it, but it was out of reach of its reptilian maw. "I'm Perenelle Flamel, Nicolas' wife."

"Luna Lovegood. I came with Dumbledore. He's talking with Mr. Flamel about adult stuff." When Perenelle nodded, Luna continued, pointing towards the bat-winged creature. "What are those?"

Perenelle looked confused, and turned to look at the creatures. When she looked back at Luna, her gaze was sympathetic. "You can see them?"

Luna nodded.

"I'm sorry."

She cocked her head to the side. Her glasses nearly fell off her face. "Was I not supposed to be able to see them?"

"They're called thestrals. They can only be seen by people who've seen death."

"Oh," was all Luna managed to say before an awkward silence descended.

"Would you like to feed them?" Perenelle asked with a small smile. She pointed towards the bucket full of raw meat.

Luna stepped closer, her curiosity overriding her initial fear. "Are they dangerous?"

"Oh no! Nicolas trains them well. When you live as long as we do, you tend to find new hobbies!" Perenelle laughed. "Well-trained thestrals are very gentle unless provoked."

After the encouragement, Luna approached the bucket. She dunked her hands into it, blood splashing over the sleeves of her robes, and picked out three large slabs of meat. Holding the pile in one arm, she used the other to individually feed the thestrals that gathered excitedly. Once she had handed them all out, the threstrals then reached forward and started licking the stray blood on her hands and robes. Their tongues were wet and scratchy, but all the same it tickled, and Luna giggled.

"Come now, Luna. Let's go back inside."

Luna took one last reluctant look at the thestrals, before joining Perenelle.

"Was that your garden?" Luna asked as they walked towards the door.

Perenelle chuckled. "I had made my wishes for a garden known when we first came here. Nicolas took it to heart and gave one to me, using alchemy. I believe he calls it spagyric. Of course, he always has a way of making things _extravagant_. " She had a nostalgic expression on her face. "It was always an endearing trait, even when it frustrated me so. But come, I'm sure you don't want to hear an old woman ramble."

Luna did, and said as much to Perenelle, but she only laughed and waved her request away.

When they returned to the cottage, Nicolas and Dumbledore were standing side by side. Dumbledore seemed to have looked the same, but Nicolas' looked positively jolly and his cheeks were somehow even _redder_. The former held a wooden box with a worn, red journal on top of it.

"Everything go well, Perenelle?" Nicolas asked.

"Of course," she replied. "I think the thestrals took a liking to Luna. Though it might have been because of the blood."

Nicolas looked at her sympathetically for a moment. "Dumbledore tells me that you're interested in alchemy, Miss Lovegood."

Luna nodded.

With one hand, he tugged at the wispy hairs at his chin. "It's unprecedented to have someone as young as you involved in the subject. From what Albus has told me, even Hogwarts only offers the subject to their older students if there's enough interest." Nicolas broke into a wide smile_. _"But Albus gives me his assurances, and I trust his judgment."

"Does that mean you're going to teach me?"

Nicolas bellowed in laughter, his large belly shaking. "Oh, oh no. I will personally teach you how to use the equipment of course, but nothing further. I am of the firm belief that alchemy is its own teacher."

As if waiting on a cue, Perenelle stepped forward. "Albus, it's been too long! Could I trouble you for some tea?"

"It would be a pleasure, Perenelle," Dumbledore replied with a smile. As he was being led away, Nicolas gestured with his head towards an open grandfather clock. A staircase of stone winded downward, the pathway lit by torches.

"Come, Luna. Your future awaits!"

Luna followed with a skip in her step, avoiding any cracks along the way.

* * *

"Luna!" breathlessly cried a girl.

Over the journal, Luna could see the familiar red hair of the Weasley family.

"Hello, Ginny."

"Guess who I saw on the Hogwarts train!"

Luna carefully placed Nicolas Flamel's journal on her lap cover up, the book spread open to mark her placed. She gave the question Ginny put forth (even when it wasn't a question) serious thought.

"Your brothers," Luna said with a satisfactory nod.

The large, toothy smile Ginny had on her face faltered slightly. "Well, yes...but that wasn't who I was talking about!"

"Other students?"

"Well...sure, but–"

"Oh, I know! You saw the conductor!"

Ginny looked like she wanted to tear her hair off. "No! Harry Potter! I saw Harry Potter!" She had then started on a gushing spiel about how they had met and even made eye contact, and how being in his very presence was the most magnificent thing in the world, even if she had found out his identity too late to make a difference.

Luna, however, had something else on her mind. "Did he have three heads?"

Ginny frowned. "No. Why would he have three heads?"

"Well, he defeated that one dark wizard–"

"You-Know-Who?"

"No, I don't know who, Ginny. That one dark wizard, you know what I mean."

"You-Know-What-I-Mean?"

"No, that wasn't him either. I don't think it matters, since he's supposed to be dead. Anyways, he was defeated and left that scar on his forehead, right?"

Ginny eyed Luna strangely. "Right," she said.

"Obviously, if Harry Potter didn't have a forehead, he would have died," said Luna in a matter-of-fact tone. "But if he had three heads, he'd then have two more foreheads to protect himself if for some reason the dark wizard becomes alive again. It makes sense, but I guess he's not as lucky as the Three-Headed Snagglewraff."

Ginny blinked, before she started laughing. It was a shrill, child-like laughter, but large enough that she collapsed on the floor, clutching her sides as she continued.

Luna picked the journal back up and started reading, waiting for Ginny to finish. It always ended up this way; they would have a conversation, and Ginny would give her strange looks before laughing, despite the fact that nothing Luna said was intended to be funny. But Ginny's laughter was a sound she enjoyed, so Luna didn't mind it too much.

Her laughter died down as Luna turned the page. Her bed shifted as extra weight was placed upon it.

"What are you reading, Luna?" Ginny asked. Her head was rested on a pillow nearby Luna's shoulder, looking upon the pages with curiosity.

"A journal," Luna said. It was one of the things Nicolas had given her, the text transcribed and transplanted into new journals whenever the old became too brittle or faded ("An alchemy secret," he said with a wink). "Though it reads like some sort of romance book."

Ginny scooted closer, her interest increasing. "Can I read it also?"

Luna smiled, and flipped back towards the first page, holding the book between them both. As she read the words out loud softly, they both took a journey through the life of a young upstart about to attend Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

* * *

"Molly! It's good to see you again."

"You as well, Xenophilius."

"Come in, please! Would you like some tea?"

"Oh, no thank you. I've come to get my daughter."

"Of course. She went upstairs with Luna, and never came back down."

They both shared a smile. Xenophilius lead Molly up the winding stairs, and the few steps it took to reach Luna's room. Xenophilius knocked politely, and opened the door when he heard no answer.

"Luna–" Xenophilius started, but quickly quieted.

Luna and Ginny were laying on top of the bed, in a deep slumber. Ginny rested her head partly on Luna's shoulder, while Luna's head leaned against the top of Ginny's. At the end of Luna's limp arm was a nearly closed journal, the page marked by Luna's lone thumb.

"It looks like our girls are a bit preoccupied," Xenophilius whispered. "Why not let Ginny stay the night?"

"Oh Xenophilius, I wouldn't want to intrude–"

"Nonsense. Your family is always welcome in our home."

"Well, they do look rather peaceful. It's precious." Molly beamed. "I don't suppose that offer for tea is not off the table?"

Xenophilius smiled. Molly left the room to go downstairs, while Xenophilius stepped closer to the bed, using a wand and a muttered incantation to make his footsteps silent. Silently, he grasped the journal from Luna's hand, and marking her place, gently placed the book beside the photo of Pandora and Luna.

He stared wistfully at the photo with a sad smile. He extinguished the light, and after taking one final look, closed the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Morning, Luna."

"Morning, Dad."

Luna sat down at the table, her plate already provided in front of her: a meager helping of cold blood sausage and slightly burnt toast cut into triangles.

It had settled into a sort of routine after her mum died. There were no jokes, no more full montys. The very lack of her presence made the mornings just a little less bright. Her dad had tried his best with the cooking, but it ended up usually being cereal or leftovers.

It was a silent mockery of what their mornings used to be.

"Luna," her dad said after an extended silence.

Luna, nibbling on the end of a crispy piece of toast, looked up. Breakfast was normally a silent affair. "Yes, dad?"

He lowered the thick book he was reading, and pushed back his long, shoulder-length white hair nearly unkempt. With his haggard face, he looked years older than he actually was, with more wrinkles on his forehead every week.

"You're...alchemy. Where do you plan on doing these experiments?"

"Originally, the living room." Luna took a bite of her sausage. "But then I remembered that it was blibbering humdinger season. So instead, I was going to use mum's workplace."

Her dad gave her a measuring stare, the origin of which Luna was uncertain of. Finally, he said, "Alright," and with a nod, returned his attention back to the book.

There was another silence, before Luna spoke up this time. "Dad?"

He looked up again. "Yes, Luna?"

"I think you're getting better at cooking. I can actually taste the toast this time."

The corners of his thin, somber lips quivered upward. It brought a smile to Luna's face.

It wasn't what they used to have, but it was a step forward.

* * *

Luna frowned, pushing the bridge of the spectacles upward.

She wasn't sure what she had done wrong. She had the ingredients that she read was needed: the water from the nearby spring, and dandelions, her mum's favorite flowers that grew in the garden.

When she crushed some of the dandelions in the mortal and pestle, and ran it through the alembic along with the water, Luna expected the water to turn clear, with a slight tinge of red once was purified in the retort. Instead, all she had gotten was dirty-looking water that had a swamp-green color, along with a powdery substance called 'grit' that was left behind in the alembic.

The journal had told her it would taste like life itself; not that she knew what that meant, but 'life' must taste better than ground up dirt paste.

Even though they supposedly lasted for nearly as long as Mr. Flamel has, Luna checked the equipment she was given. Despite the fact that they looked fragile enough to break upon touch, the equipment held firm against her rudimentary inspection.

Sitting on top of a stool, Luna looked around the perimeter of the room.

No wrackspurts. She _was_ missing something then.

Flipping through Mr. Flamel's journal, she went through the text about the aqua vitae, before she found the passage that she was looking for.

_There is a third ingredient that is necessary in order to unlock the full effects of the aqua vitae. Much like the other ingredients ('life that springs from liquid' and 'life that springs from earth'), there is a third qualifier: life which springs from body. The books at the library aren't very forthcoming about what exactly this is– _

What followed was a string of colorful curses, some of which she heard her dad use from time to time, usually when the topic of the "Ministry of Magic" came up. Some that Luna didn't know the meaning of and others that she didn't even know existed.

It did however give her knowledge outside of new curse words. But much like Mr. Flamel, she was stumped as to what 'life which springs from body' means. The journal wasn't much help on that regard either.

She would have to ask the smartest person she knew of to help her with this conundrum.

* * *

"Dad?"

His office looked like the aftermath of a localized storm. Papers strewn everywhere on the shelves and the floor and the desk. Books were in the same state; Luna found it more likely that she would find one lying open face-down on the floor or her dad's desk than anywhere near a bookshelf.

Her dad, whose face had been glued fervently to the parchment on his desk, looked up at Luna, eyes widened in surprise. "Luna? Are you alright?"

Luna nodded. "I just wanted to ask you something, dad. Are you busy?"

"I always have time for you," he replied, patting his open lap. She eagerly took the invitation, peering down at the front page headline of the newest issue of _The Quibbler_.

_MERLIN CONSPIRACY: HOW MERLIN IS WALKING AMONG US NOW_

"What's a Merlin Conspiracy?"

"Ah, just some adult manners. Nothing for you to worry about, Luna," he said, shuffling it towards the side. "Didn't you have something you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh, right. Do you know anything about 'life which springs from body'?"

His brow furrowed, adding even more forehead wrinkles, something Luna didn't think possible. "Is this some sort of riddle?"

"Could be."

"Well," he said after a measured silence, "your mother would say that it would be the soul. But I'm guessing you want something a bit more tangible."

Luna nodded.

He smiled. "Then here's my answer: blood."

Now it was her turn for her brow to furrow. "Blood?"

"Blood. It is the heart that beats and the brain that thinks, but it falls upon blood to provide the energy needed to sustain both of them. Without your blood, neither your brain nor your heart can function. But that's not the end of it. Even wizards use blood to compare themselves, to reinforce an imagined superiority, but more importantly, they use it as a confirmation of identity. For what is a wizard whose blood is neither pure, mixed, or even made of mud? Do you know, Luna?"

She shook her head.

"He is no wizard at all."

* * *

Once she cleaned her alembic (putting away the grit to the side), she once again repeated the procedure: ground up dandelion flower heads and water into the heated alembic.

This time, she entered the third ingredient. Picking up the small knife she got from the kitchen, she lightly pricked the tip of her finger, and let one drop of blood fall into the alembic, mixing with the water and dandelion.

There was no spark, no minor bang, not even a magical change of color to signify that something _important _happened.

It was disappointing, in a way. Anti-climactic.

Luna waited patiently. When the process was complete, she looked down at her finished product and smiled.

The water was clear, with a red hue outlining the surface. Whenever she moved the cup, the shade of red would magically change, sometimes from a light pink color to a stark crimson, and even a blood-ruby.

When she gave it a curious sip, the water had an insipid taste, but she felt the effects almost immediately. She felt just a little bit more energized, a little less sleepy, a little less fatigued. She put down the glass and reached for the journal again, to confirm the effects.

_Aqua vitae, also known as the 'water of life' is a bit of a misnomer. From all of my experiments, it seems that the properties of the water extend only to the removal of fatigue, as well as an energy booster. While it also works on plants, it seems to have no effect on magical power, nor does it seem to extend the lifespan of an individual, no matter the dosage. The relationship to the Philosopher's Stone is shallow at best. Unfortunate. _

Luna turned back around quickly, but in the process, she spilled the container (which rested on a small part of her loose clothing) of her aqua vitae, spilling the contents all over her desk. It touched everything, from her spare dandelions to her clothing, and even the leftover powder that she collected from her alembic.

It was the interaction with the latter that caught her attention when Luna went to get cleaning supplies.

The liquid had transformed the fine sand-like powder into a wet, solid substance that felt like clay. She grabbed the substance in her hand, feeling the smooth texture run between her fingers as she squished it.

Her successful batch of aqua vitae had been lost, but at least it wasn't an absolute loss. Luna didn't know what she was going to do with the leftovers; in this state, she could easily find _some_ use for it.

But first, she'd need a dry work space.

* * *

The material was malleable, easy to work with despite its initial toughness.

It wasn't a very large figurine, but Luna didn't need it to be. It would be something she could place on a nightstand or dresser, or maybe next to the photograph of her mum. Something to commemorate her first success, the first step to her magnum opus.

By the time she had placed the finishing touches on the horn, she heard her dad call her up for dinner.

"I'll let you dry and come back for you in the morning, okay?" Luna told her newly formed figurine, before clearing away the apparatuses and tidying up the rest of her work space.

Luna and her dad enjoyed a fairly quiet and enjoyable meal. Her dad didn't even burn anything this time.

* * *

"Dad! Dad, look what I found! I originally left my figurine to dry overnight but then it had disappeared and when I was looking for it I found this and–"

Her dad lowered the newspaper, giving Luna a skeptical stare. "Luna. Calm down. What exactly happened?"

She thrust her cupped hands towards her dad. When he leaned in for a closer look, she opened them up.

In her hand was an ugly gray creature, with a single hump on its back, hexagonal-patterned scales on its body. It had a flat, pug face and a single, long wrinkled horn. It's tiny cry sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

"It's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!" Luna shouted excitedly.

He fell backwards out of his chair.


	4. Chapter 4

The bell rang as she opened the door. When she stepped through it, the ice cream shop smelled strongly of cinnamon.

A tall, lanky man behind the counter turned at the sound of the bell. Mr. Tybalt was the name and for whom the shop was named after ("Tybalt's Ice Cream Emporium: For when a shop just isn't enough!"), though mentally, Luna had ascribed the nickname 'Scruffy' to him due to his shabby, thin beard and unruly black hair.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer!" he boomed, an ever-present smile on his face. It was the greeting he used for everyone that came back into the store after their first visit.

"Hello, Mr. Tybalt," she greeted, taking her usual seat on the middle-left stool.

"It just so happens I need a taste tester and I said 'If only my prodigious taster Luna just walked through that door right now'! And what do you know? You appeared, just like magic!" He procured a small, plastic spoon from _somewhere_ ("A great ice cream emporium owner never reveals his secrets."), and held it out towards her. "It's my newest creation: the Hot Foot, Cold Shoulder Delite!"

She took a taste, and almost immediately afterwards felt the effects, a tingling sensation in both her shoulders and her feet.

"Well?"

"It's okay," she replied. "Though my shoulders aren't really cold, just kind of chilly. My feet are also warm."

Mr. Tybalt shrugged, tossing the plastic spoon over his shoulder. It sank into the trashcan without a sound. "Ah well, back to the drawing board. The usual?"

She didn't respond, but she rarely needed to, since he already knew what she was going to order. In no time at all, a large bowl filled with green ice cream was placed in front of her, along with a copious amount of chocolate syrup, sprinkles, and two cucumber slices near the ends. Moments later, a napkin with silverware on top was right next to it. "One Cucumber Bananza Sundae for my favorite customer!"

She took a bite and another and another.

The particular flavor along with others had originally been ideas crafted by her mother. Whenever they stopped by his store, she would always give Mr. Tybalt an idea or two of things she would like to see, which would always end up on the ever-growing list of flavors the next time they came back.

This was the last one she had suggested. It was also her favorite one.

"Luna?"

She looked up.

"Why the long face?" Mr. Tybalt laughed as Luna started groping the sides of her face. "It's just an expression, Luna. You don't _actually_ have a long face. It just means that you look sad.

"Oh," she replied. _That is a relief_. She didn't know how she'd be able to fit into her clothing if she had a really long face. "Just stuff at home. With my dad."

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Well, there's this…thing."

"A thing," Mr. Tybalt repeated, amused.

With a crunch, Luna took a bite out of one of the cucumber slices and nodded. "Yeah, a thing. I came across it yesterday. It's really rare. Like, it's the only one of its kind."

"So, in a sense you found some buried treasure."

"Exactly! Except its not gold or anything. Gold isn't really its color. I think it's more of a light shade of pink."

He smiled. "Well, congratulations on your find."

"Thanks. I thought my dad would be like that too, but he's been acting weird. He wants to take it away from me, tell everyone about it, show it to the world and stuff."

"And you don't want to because this treasure is special to you."

Luna nodded. "I had to hide it in a very special place so he would stop bugging me about it. I feel bad about it because he was so happy. But I couldn't let him do it. I'd never see him again."

"Have you told him what you told me?"

Luna slurped down the liquefied ice cream dregs at the bottom of her bowl, before putting it down and wiping away the rest from around her mouth with her sleeve. "Not really."

"You should. I'm sure he'll understand once you tell him how important it is to you. And maybe you can come to a compromise."

She tilted her head. "Compromise?"

"It's when two people agree to do a little of what the other wants so everyone can be happy."

"Oh! So it's like when you water a plant, you only give them only some so you can have the rest to drink for yourself and not die?"

"That's certainly one way to look at it, yes." Mr. Tybalt idly looked down at his wristwatch and sighed. "Bugger, I'm late."

"Late for what?"

"Errand for Mrs. Rosamund. You know how she is with tardiness. Mind watching the store while I'm gone?"

Luna nodded. Remembering her manners, she quickly added, "Thank you, Mr. Tybalt for the ice cream. And the advice."

He smiled, apron already off and hanging on a coat rack. "Anything for my favorite customer!" he exclaimed, before leaving the door.

Luna settled down in her seat. Watching an empty store for a while didn't seem so bad. What's the worst that could happen?

* * *

Not even fifteen minutes in and she needed to use the bathroom. The problem was that she didn't know where the bathroom _was_.

After going through one of the doors on either side of the counter (one which lead to some sort of supply closet, the other leading into a hallway with even more doors), she stuck her head into multiple other doors, usually only finding empty rooms.

One particular door led her into a bedroom. Unlike the others, this one was more and sparsely decorated; board games boxes stacked high on the floor, various actions figures along the wooden dresser, and a young boy around her age lying in bed.

"Bathroom?"

It took him a few seconds to get over his bewilderment before he replied.

* * *

She later learned that the boy's name was Gordy. He was Mr. Tybalt's nephew who came to live with him because his mom thought the fresh air might help him with his sickness.

He wasn't very specific about what exactly his sickness was, nor he did he know what it was called. All he knew was that it made him nearly impossible for him to walk, which was why he was stuck in the bed all the time.

Nevertheless, she and Gordy passed the time away by talking, long enough that Luna had nearly forgotten that she was supposed to be watching the shop for his uncle.

When she made her way towards the door, Gordy asked her, "Will you come back? To talk with me, I mean. Maybe play?"

Luna nodded, and departed. When she took her seat back in her original chair, store still devoid of any new customers, Mr. Tybalt chose exactly that point to enter the store.

"Oh good, the store is in one piece. Thanks for watching over it. Next order is on the house."

"Thank you, but I'd rather have it here, instead."

Mr. Tybalt chuckled. "Of course."

* * *

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Knights don't move like that."

"It looks like a horse."

"Fine. _Horses_ don't move like that."

"Why not? I've never seen a horse move in an L-shape before. Have you?"

Gordy's nose twitched. "No," he said reluctantly.

Luna pointed to her rook. "And castles can't even _move_."

"I guess that's true, but-"

"Plus the pawns don't even have hats."

Gordy was rendered silent by the sudden non-sequitur.

"I mean, look. The knight and rook don't have any because they don't wear hats. The king and queen have crowns, and the bishop has a hat too. But the pawns don't have anything." One of her fingers rubbed the smooth, polished head of a black pawn. "Not really fair, is it? I'm surprised they haven't had a revolution yet."

Luna estimated that five minutes had passed before Gordy stopped laughing. She couldn't help but laugh along a bit as well, since it _was_ kind of funny. No way could the pawns revolt with the way they captured their pieces.

That was just silly.

* * *

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Mr. Tybalt asked, fresh from another errand that he had to run.

By the time she had left to return to the front of the store, she and Gordy has strayed far away from the usual set-up and rules of chess, instead delving into their own checkerboard fantasy with kings and moving castles and revolutionary pawns.

"Nope," Luna said with a shrug.

* * *

"What's this?" Gordy asked, eyeing the small vial of clear water inside. It had a slightly purple tinge to it.

"Water."

"Doesn't look like any water I've had."

"That's because it's a special kind of water." Luna leaned forward, whispering in his ear like it was a secret. "It's royal water."

"Royal water?"

"Yep. You drink it and you can become like a king."

"Pull the other one."

"I'm being serious. Drink it if you don't believe me. But you can't tell anyone."

"Not even my uncle?"

"Not even Mr. Tybalt. He'd probably turn it into an ice cream, and then _everybody_ would be a king. Then you'd have to find a king for the kingdom of kings."

Gordy gave the vial another look, before shrugging his shoulders and emptying the contents into his mouth with a single swig. His eyes already started to flutter, as if they were weighed down by invisible bags of sand. He leaned back into his bed, and Luna took care to pull the blankets up to his neck.

Luna would be lying if she said she didn't notice the dark rings under his eyes, or the way he tries to sneak a yawn when he thought she wasn't looking. Or despite the fact that he was right-handed, reach for things with his left hand, or even avoid moving using his right side at all.

She noticed these things and more. She didn't say anything, because they were having _fun_. Gordy was laughing and smiling; it was something she didn't want to take away.

So she flipped through Flamel's journal, and discovered a way that she could help Gordy. _Aqua regia_, also known as royal water, granted the recipient the "power of a king" within their dreams. It also brought the recipient into an immediate sleep, to maximize the effects.

When she started to walk out the door, to leave Gordy to his sleep, he weakly called out to her, "Will...you..." before truly falling into his slumber.

He didn't need to finish the sentence. It was the same one he repeated every time she needed to leave, and it was also the first one she had asked her when they met.

Her answer was always the same.

* * *

"Luna," her dad said during dinner. "I want to apologize."

"Apologize for what?"

"My conduct. The way I acted, it was...unbecoming, both as a man, and as your father. You simply caught me by surprise, Luna. You know how long I've been searching for one of them. How much I've wanted to see one. And to see it in person, in your hands..."

"I understand, Dad. It's important to you."

"And it's important to _you_ too. Something that I've should have known from the beginning. Will you forgive me?"

Getting up from her chair, Luna ran over and nearly tackled her dad off of his chair with a hug. "You don't need to ask."

When they broke off the embrace, he was smiling. "Well, now that is over and done with...could I take a picture? Just a single one, I promise."

Luna started to form a pouty expression on her lips, before she remembered what Scruffy had told her.

_Compromise_.

"Alright. But on one condition."

Luna looked down at the framed photo in her hands. Standing together was her and her dad, with Sniffles resting on her shoulder.

"It's a good photo, isn't it Sniffles?"

He replied with a bout of sniffling, followed by a small cry.

"Yeah, I think so too."

She placed the photo next to the picture of her mother on top of the dresser. She stepped back to get a better look and smiled.

It was her own family photo.


	5. Chapter 5

The door swung open, and Luna was met with the sight of dripping, flat red hair.

"Hello, Ginny," Luna greeted with a smile.

Ginny responded with a grunting noise.

"I didn't know it was raining."

"It's not," she replied with an ever-increasing grimace.

Luna tapped the bottom of her chin with a finger, until she snapped her fingers. "I know! You did something with your hair!"

Between the wet strands of Ginny's hair, dark eyes bored deeply into her.

"No? Okay...oh, now I got it. You ran into an Aquavirus Maggot nest, didn't you?"

"Fred and George."

"They were named Fred and George?"

"My brothers."

Luna's mouth silently opened into an o-shape as the realization hit her. "Well, you don't have to stand out there all day."

Ginny stepped inside, her shoes making a wet _sloshing_ sound with each step, leaving in its wake tiny puddles and wet trails.

"Aren't your older brothers at Hogwarts?" Luna asked as she held out a sky blue towel, embroidered with floral patterns at the bottom. It lifted itself from her hand, and completely covered Ginny's head, before it started to rigorously rubbing itself back and forth and every which way.

"Yeah, but that…didn't…urgh, gerroff me!"

Ginny grabbed the ends of the towels, and after a couple of fruitless tugs, was finally able to pry the towel away from her head and throw it onto the ground. Luna whistled, and the now wrinkled, damp towel lifted itself up and rested on her outstretched hand.

"As I was saying," Ginny started again, running her fingers through the strands of her damp hair, "They _are_ at Hogwarts, but that wouldn't stop them. They sent me a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"That's nice of them."

"If only," Ginny grumbled. "They bewitched it to become a portal of some sorts. Whenever someone looks into it, they're blasted with a torrent of water from whatever toilet it's connected to."

"Well, there's a silver lining. Now you have a portable shower."

Ginny stared at her, before shaking her head in disbelief, tittering. "Listen, I need your help."

"You don't have any towels in The Burrow?"

"We do but- nevermind! I want revenge!"

"On Fred and George?"

"Yeah! Mum won't let me use her wand, and I can't get my own until my Hogwarts letter comes in. I was hoping you could give me some ideas."

She tilted her head to the side. "Why me?"

"We're friends, aren't we? And friends help friends get revenge on their brothers."

Luna gave the matter some thought. They _were_ friends, and friends did help each other in times of crisis. Not to mention that it was a bit unfair, with it being two versus one.

And she had been meaning to try out one of her original creations…

"Alright, I'll help you. I even have an idea that might work."

Ginny's grimace turned into a grin. "You're the best, Luna!" Arms stretched, Ginny reached out for a hug, but Luna took a step back to avoid it.

"Your clothing is still wet," Luna said after she saw Ginny's frown. She lifted the towel resting on her arm.

Ginny's eyes widened. She took a step back, and Luna matched her step with a step forward. "Is there a really a need for that? I can get some spare clothing–"

"And walk all the way there wet and cold? No can do." The towel uncurled itself and floated in the air towards Ginny, as if it were stalking its prey. Ginny's eyes were like giant saucers. "Besides, it has a gentle touch. You'll be fine," Luna continued, oblivious to Ginny's terror.

As Ginny threw her hands in the air and ran screaming in the opposite direction (with Luna's towel not too far behind), Luna wondered if today was the day she wasn't supposed to use the family towel.

"It gets a bit…_enthusiastic_ when it comes to cleaning," her dad told her once. "It's like a werewolf."

"Does that mean if it bites me, I'd turn into a weretowel?"

"Fortunately for you, no," he said with a smile. "It's perfectly fine every other day of the month, except for _that_ day. It's best you stay away when that day comes around, for your own safety, of course."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Luna said to herself, before she turned her focus to cleaning the wet mess Ginny left behind. "Weretowels don't exist, after all."

* * *

"Do you have the torchbugs?"

Ginny held up the jar in her hands. Glimmering inside was a collection of torchbugs, with a bright, shimmering yellow light shining from their bodies.

"That's a lot," Luna commented.

Ginny grinned. "I've got a talent for catching these things, you know. Torchbugs, perrywingles, you name it." She gave a jar a light shake. "Why do we need torchbugs, anyways?"

"For my idea, remember?"

"Yeah, but..." Ginny spread her arms wide. "Do we really need to be out here in the middle of the night to do this?"

Luna nodded. Before she could speak, a shrill cry came forth. "Looks like Sniffles found it."

"Sniffles?"

"I'll show you. Come on." Luna grabbed Ginny's empty hand and tugged her along the direction of the cry. As they reached the edge of a nearby forested area, Luna smiled. Sniffles sat next to a small plant, whose silver-colored leaves glittered under the moonlight.

"I've never seen that before," Ginny said, awe apparent in her voice.

"It's called moonshine. It only grows under moonlight, and it's said they illuminate only–"

"No, not that. _That_." Ginny pointed to Sniffles. The creature, which had been sniffing the moonshine plant, was now taken to sniff Ginny's outstretched finger.

"Oh. That's Sniffles. Sniffles, this is my friend Ginny."

"I didn't know you had a pet."

"Me neither. He just kind of showed up one day."

Ginny giggled as her finger started scratching the area behind the horn. "What is it?"

"A Crumple-Horned Snorkack." Luna knelt down to the ground, placing aside the wooden box containing her equipment, and reached out to start plucking out moonshine from the ground.

When she glanced to the side, Ginny was still staring at her, mouth agape.

"What?"

"Pull the other one."

"I'm telling the truth, Ginny."

Ginny stared, before letting out a sigh. "Yeah, I know. You wouldn't lie to me, not with this. I just always thought they weren't…you know…"

"Real?" Luna finished for her.

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah."

"Well, you could always ask him if he's real. I'm sure he could give you a satisfactory answer."

She turned to look at Sniffles. "He can talk?"

"Sure. Sniffles, are you real?"

The Crumple-Horned Snorkack looked up at both of them, and let out a squealing sound.

"What did he say?" asked Ginny.

"'Yes'. He's also hungry."

Ginny chuckled. "I guess that settles that." She pointed to the box. "What's inside?"

"The tools we need for your revenge."

"That alchemy stuff, right?"

Luna nodded. "Do you want to help? This is as much your project as it is mine."

Ginny sat up straighter. "Really? Can I?"

"Sure! You could start by ripping off the thorax of those torchbugs…"

* * *

Ginny and Luna's heads tilted one way, and then the other way, as they observed what was left.

After grinding the thoraxes and the moonshine (the former into a sticky paste, the latter into a fine liquid, draining the dregs), along with the combination of a few minor ingredients, what was left after all the liquid evaporated was powder. The color was so black that Luna doubted she would have seen anything at all were there no light.

"Is that it?" Ginny asked. "I was expecting something more...grand."

"We're not finished yet. We still need one more ingredient." From her jacket, Luna pulled out a small knife she had smuggled from the kitchen drawer. Holding out a finger, she moved her knife to prick it, until it was arrested.

"What are you doing?!" Ginny screeched.

"Putting the finishing touches," Luna said in a matter-of-fact tone. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Your _blood_ is the final ingredient?"

"Well...yeah. It's not like I have dragon's blood on hand."

"But why?"

"Well, it's like this. If you had a choice between two presents, one that was wrapped with a bow, and one that was just stuck in a plain box, which would you choose?"

"The wrapped one," answered Ginny.

"Right. Well, blood in alchemy is like that wrapping and bow. Sure, you could go without it, but the present looks much blander without, and it's ultimately pointless."

"So, you're saying that without blood, the effect is diminished considerably?"

Luna smiled. "Exactly. There's a lot in the journal on it, but that's basically what I've picked up, yeah."

"I think I get it now," Ginny said with a nod. "But you're getting mine as well. It's as much my project as yours, right? So it only feels right that I contribute also."

Two drops of blood later – one from each girl –, the color and composition of the resultant creation did not change.

"Now it's finished."

"It looks like Floo powder," Ginny remarked. Grabbing a fistful in her hand, she tossed the powder into the air around them. The dust spread out in the air, before a thick darkness enveloped them entirely. It was so think that she couldn't even see her hand, even when it was in front of her face.

"Luna?"

"I'm here, Ginny."

"This is awesome. I can't wait until Fred and George get a load of- whoa."

Luna looked up as small, circular yellow lights appeared in the darkness, dotting the sky with stars that shined more brightly than the ones she'd ever seen. As they continued to appear in the darkness, there was enough light for her to finally see the grass under her, as well as Ginny.

"So much for revenge," Ginny said.

"We might need to do some tweaking, but I think we can replicate the first part."

"We?" asked Ginny. She sat up, knees held against her chest as she looked at Luna.

"It's our project, isn't it?"

Ginny smiled in response, and looked back up at the shimmering starry spectacle. "It's not what I wanted, but it's a...what did you call it?"

"A silver lining?"

"Yeah, one of those."

Luna nodded in agreement.

* * *

Each shop in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole had its own, distinctive smell. The earthy, musky smell of Mrs. Rosamund's flower shop assaulted her senses as soon as she entered the door, but Luna quickly brushed it off.

Mrs. Rosamund popped out from the back door, with an ever-present smile on her face. With her bright strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her deep blue eyes, Mrs. Rosamund radiated youthfulness. Many of the village residents joked that the flower shop owner had used her age as a secret ingredient in her fertilizer, which was why she was able to look so young.

She pulled off her dung-covered gloves, and laid them on the counter. "Good morning, Luna! Come to buy something?

"Good morning, Mrs. Rosamund. I just came by to see if maybe Mr. Tybalt was running an errand for you. His shop's closed."

She didn't think it was _that_ big of a deal. Not until the smile, which was much a part of Mrs. Rosamund as her store was, disappeared from her face.

"You didn't hear?"

Luna's heart started to pound rapidly. "Hear what?"

The flower shopkeeper rounded the wooden counter and crouched down to her level. One of her strong, firm hands clasped her shoulder reassuringly.

"Mr. Tybalt is attending to some funeral matters. I'm sorry, Luna. Gordy passed away yesterday."


End file.
